Who Are Wilbur and Charlotte Anyway Part 2

On March 14th of this year we put our home of 28 years up for sale with Beth Tyler of Long and Foster in Annapolis.

1953 Rancher. About as American as you can get.

Beth Tyler

After a lot of back and forth and comparables analysis, we agreed upon a listing price and our bottom line. It was only March and I was prepared to wait it out until we got our bottom line. I was working part time and enjoying it. My paycheck was going in the savings account. We planned to continue to make value-enhancing improvements to the house. If it took six months to sell, WTH.

Beth, who definitely knows her business, told us that was not going to happen and that we had better be prepared for it. She was right and we weren't -- prepared. There were 6 showings the first day and  13 showings that first weekend. That's the good news. On the down side, each time Fran got a text or email notification of a showing she had to corral the cats into the laundry room and pack up the dog and go somewhere for the two hour showing window. Annapolis is not Paris. The number of places you can go with a dog if it is raining begin with Home Depot and end with Pet Smart. I was working and as useful as......

By the seventh day we had had 24 showings and a lot of positive feedback. It finally began to sink in that the house was going to sell and the most we could hope for was 60 days to settlement. In as little as 60 days we would be homeless. In addition, our plan to get up from the settlement table and go buy a motor home with some of the proceeds, move right in and drive off was unmasked for what it was:  a really unfeasible, downright stupid idea.

Well, what about selling and renting the house back from the new owners or renting an apartment temporarily until we found and outfitted our motorhome. Either of those solutions tended to encourage procrastination. Hitting the road meant divesting ourselves of 98% of our stuff. That process seemed to naturally fall into the period from contract of sale to closing. Sell the house; sell the stuff; get the money and go. But in what?

I had spent a lot of time looking online at Airstreams.We even made a trip up to Lakewood, NJ to  look at them. Beautiful they are.

Practical for us, with 2 cats and a dog, they weren't. The animals couldn't ride in the trailer and we certainly didn't want them with us in the tow vehicle.

Thursday, March 21 was a clear, sunny day. Two showings were scheduled: 10-12 and 1-3. I was off work. So we decided to ride out to the Happy Traveler's RV lot in the median of Route 3 in Gambrills. Just inside the door we were met by a fellow who introduced himself as Steve Shapiro of Chesaco RV. He had just bought Happy Travelers and was there with the accountant integrating the new operation with his other two "stores".

Shapiro immediately reminded me of the best salesman I had ever met. Roy Schachte,  "that's SCHACK--TEE". Thirty years ago Roy and I sold sailboats out of a shack on Route 50. Roy had the worst toupe imaginable and he wore it as a trademark. He were pointy black street shoes in a sailboat operation. He drove a yellow Cadillac Eldorado convertible. The sheriff often came with a warrant for alimony non-payment and Roy spent a lot of time down at Fran O'brien's bar. He had fallen far in the world but he hadn't lost the magic touch. Invariably, the customer would ask Roy what kind of boat he had. "Boat! I hate boats. I wouldn't give you a dime for a dozen of them." Shortly thereafter he would look right at the wife and tell her to go out to the car and get the checkbook. More often than not, she would. In his heyday, Roy must have been Hell on wheels selling for Playtex and Maidenform, both of whom paid him a lot of money. And I'm sure he reaped all of the ancillary benefits.

Roy drove one of these

Shapiro led us to his office and I proceeded to tell him what we wanted to do; how big vehicle we wanted. how much we wanted to spend. Well, I told him. Fran didn't say anything. After I finished, he said that if we went that route it would be a major mistake. We wouldn't last a year in a vehicle as small and old and uncomfortable as my proposed size and budget would allow.

Ok. So how big should it be and how much will it cost?

Thirty feet and at least $50,000.

Ok. What have you got to show us?

Nothing. (Long Pause). Well, let me call my other stores and see if anything came in last weekend.

The call:

You did.  What year? 2008! What's the mileage? Less than 10, 000! What's the condition? In the wrapper! OK. I'm going to send Dave and Fran Feldman up to take a look at it. (Hangs up) They took in trade a 2008 Lexington with very low mileage and "in the wrapper" condition. Go take a look at it. It's only 40 minutes away.

How much is it?

Just go take a look at it.

So we went home, had a bite to eat and evacuated the house again for the 1 o'clock showing. We drove up to Joppatown. There, staged front and center on the lot, was the Lexington, door open and slide out. No, it wasn't love at first site. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder but anyone who maintains that RVs, Motor Homes, Fifth Wheels  or travel trailers (with a few exceptions) are beautiful is one blind SOB. Hulking, looming, gargantuan, ungainly, boxy, yes. Beautiful? Maybe in Indiana where most of them are made. Rob, the salesman, took us through the Lexington. It had a walk-around bed, a must have. Equally as important, it didn't have my grandmother's era oak cabinetry, her floral patterned, overstuffed sofa or shag carpet running up the walls and across the ceiling.

In retrospect, our first meeting with Wilbur-to-be reminds me of the New Yorker cartoon wherein two middle age people are standing at the alter and each says to the other, "You'll do." Within an hour  we had agreed to buy the Lexington. Rob want $55k. We told him his owner said not to pay more than $50K. Fran wrote Rob a deposit check for $1,000 with the sale contingent on his obtaining financing  for us for the purchase. We shook hands on the deal and started the drive home. Before we left the RV lot, Fran got a call from Beth Tyler. One contract on the house was coming over the fax machine as she spoke and another contract was to follow. Could we meet her in two hours at her office? Don't you just love it when a well-made plan comes together?

By 7 that evening we had made a counter-offer for our home and by 9 it was accepted. Then the ambivalence about the Lexington began to set in. We went online and researched the "com parables." Fran confirmed that we got a good deal. (It got even better as we eventually found additional unlisted options.) But was the Lexington the right motorhome? We went back and forth. Finally it was Make it; make it your own; and stick by it decision time. If Rob could find some outfit to finance the Lexington, it was meant to be.

We didn't hear anything from Rob on Friday or over the weekend. On Monday Rob called to say that The Fly-By-Night credit union of Frederick, Maryland would finance the purchase. The only condition was that we pick the motor home up by Thursday. Done!

In the drivers seat with Rob next to me

Getting the Lexington home and into the driveway is a story for another post. Suffice it for now that Wilbur drives just like a car. A very big, very heavy, very awkward car whose sashaying ass-end will take out a gas pump in a New York minute.

The Lex in the driveway. Better, is the driveway

Over the next few weeks I got to know the Lexington. No matter how many people, the house inspector, the appraiser, the mailman, the surveyor, etc., paid the rig compliments,  I just couldn't see it. At best, the Lexington was a pig with lipstick; a pig among pigs. A special pig. 

Voila, as the French would say. Wilbur. Some Pig.

And, of course:

Wilbur and Charlotte

And that, boys and girls, is how s 2008 Lexington 300GTS became Wilbur and a 1994 Toyota became Charlotte. And, I hope, they will live happily ever after, at least for a while.